Far Away
by L. C. Darius
Summary: Sequel to I Told You So. Picard's POV, reflecting on the state of affairs between Beverly and himself and responding to her decision. As always, feedback welcome!


The star field streamed steadily past the windows of Jean-Luc Picard's quarters. It cast a flickering light over the couch beneath the viewport as well as across the dining table, but not over the captain himself. He was seated at his desk, hidden in shadow. Stabbing the last bit of fish on his plate with a fork, Picard sighed, finally placing the utensil back on the ceramic, still laden with the last bite of his dinner. As he looked around his quarters, he reflected on his new eating habits. Perhaps "new" wasn't quite the right word. It had been almost a year since he had used his dining table. Since the night Beverly had left. For what must have been the millionth time, he replayed the night in his mind.

"Dinner was wonderful, Jean-Luc. Thank you," she had said, taking the glass of wine he held out to her and settling back on her side of the couch.

"We had to make your last night a memorable one, didn't we?" he replied. Some emotion he still to this day couldn't identify had flashed briefly across her face and she had broken eye contact with him, looking down at her glass instead, a small, half-hearted smile on her mouth. He had taken a deep breath and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. An awkward silence stretched between them.

"I am going to miss you, you know." She still wouldn't look him in the eye as she spoke. It was as though she had known what her leaving was doing to him, how it was tearing him up. He had made it through dinner just fine. They both had. But now, as the evening was drawing to a close, the realization that the end of an era was near weighed heavily. "I'm not sure I'll know quite what to do with myself."

"You're always welcome here if you change your mind." He had said it without thinking. Breath catching in his throat, he looked at her, gauging her response. Finally, her eyes had met his, questioning, almost daring him to ask. In that moment, he'd known he had to do it. It had been utterly selfish of him. But he had to, just this one last time.

"Beverly," he'd begun. The fear in her eyes had been apparent, but he'd forged onward, getting up from the couch and dropping to his knees before her and taking her hand in his. "Beverly, I'm only going to ask this once. Just this one time and then no more. This stops here." She had licked her lips and nodded slightly at him, urging him to continue.

"Stay."

The word had hung in the air between them. Several moments had passed, marked only by the exhalations they both heard. Jean-Luc had closed his eyes, knowing that each second that went by lessened the likelihood that she would say yes. He'd grimaced knowingly as he heard the telltale clink of glass-on-glass and felt her hand slip from his. Head bowed, he had looked at the coffee table to see her still-full glass and had felt her rise to her feet before him. She had moved away, towards the door.

"I think I need to go now. Goodnight, Jean-Luc." He hadn't moved from where he knelt, hadn't looked up at her. Without thinking, he had spoken.

"You're making a mistake, Beverly. You'll realize that someday." Recalling it now, he kicked himself for that. It had been a slip of the tongue. Something he hadn't wanted to say out loud, but he had.

"You're the mistaken one. You're not thinking straight here. You…you're upset. Data's gone, Will's gone, Deanna's gone. And now I'm leaving. That's all this is. You said it yourself after Kes-Prytt. Those feelings we once had are gone now. I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, but I can't." The doors had whooshed shut behind her.

Picard hadn't eaten at his dining table since, nor had he used the couch. His quarters felt dead and dreary. They once had been his sanctuary, but now were his prison. Everything here reminded him of her, of the woman he loved more than anything who had told him in no uncertain terms that she did not love him back. She had hurt him, crushed his spirit. He let out a short, bitter laugh. A Cardassian torture chamber hadn't managed in days of captivity to accomplish what Beverly Crusher had in under fifty words.

It was his own fault, really. If he hadn't asked, things would be fine. In one moment of weakness, he had ruined a lifetime of friendship and a future of possibilities. What right did he have to ask her to put her career on hold for him? None. That was what it came down to. He had no place to ask that of her.

He supposed that it was fair payback. Once, years ago she had asked the same of him. It had been after Jack died. The two had become closer than either had expected throughout the whole ordeal. They had leaned on one another when there was no one else to lean on. But the time had come for Picard to return to the Stargazer and leave Beverly and her son to pick up the pieces of their lives. She had asked him to stay, even just a bit longer. She hadn't been ready to face the world on her own yet, but in fear of what was developing between them, he had refused and they hadn't spoken again until the day she had come on board his ship as his Chief Medical Officer. Now it had been her turn to do the leaving, but Picard doubted whether a third chance at reconciliation would come their way.

Sighing dejectedly, he rose to his feet and disposed of his dinner. He walked into his bedroom and pulled off his uniform, tossing it uncharacteristically atop the dresser. Somehow he just wasn't in the mood to put it away. As he did every night, he pulled on a pair of shorts-navy blue tonight-, brushed his teeth in the bathroom, and pulled back the covers. Sliding into bed, he knew that sleep would not come easily.

As it turned out, he was wrong. He drifted off shortly after, but it was a fitful sleep. His mind, it seemed, would not let the issue rest. He wanted her back, wanted her to tell him that she needed him as badly as he needed her, that he had been right-she had made a mistake and she wanted to rectify it. She floated through his dreams, so real, so loving that he could almost touch her, feel her. In his dreams, he again asked her to stay, but this time, she said yes. She was here with him now. He had not eaten dinner alone, pretending to have work to do so he wouldn't have to again be reminded of her, but they had shared a quiet intimate meal, just as they always had. The reality of his situation continued to intrude upon his fantasy, however, and eventually he woke.

He looked around, wondering what had startled him from his restless slumber. The viewscreen across from his bed was blinking. A call. Drowsily, he rose from his bed, pulling on a short robe as he went but not bothering to fasten the tie. He fumbled for the button on the side of the device and blinked, turning away from the light as it came on.

"Beverly?" he questioned, his voice hoarse and scratchy from sleep. He cleared his throat and waited, concerned. Perhaps something was wrong. They'd spoken just once since she left.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Jean-Luc, but it's rather important." He nodded at her and waited patiently. "Jean-Luc," she said slowly. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you…"

He'd heard that from her for as long as he could remember. Was it possible that after all these years, she was finally going to say it? Had she changed her mind? In her pause, he looked her over. Her hair hung in messy curls-she hadn't bothered to dry it after showering, he assumed-and her blue eyes were rich with emotion: fear, hope, determination, and something else that he couldn't place. She was stunning as ever.

"I…God, I don't know how to say this…I was wrong. I lied. I told you I didn't want you anymore. That couldn't be any farther from the truth. I've thought about it, and it's not you that I don't want. It's your friendship-"

"Beverly, if you've gotten me up in the middle of the night to explain why you turned me down, I don't-"

"No, that's not it at all. I don't want to be friends. Our friendship was poisoning us, Jean-Luc, don't you see? We'd become so wrapped up in hiding how we really felt that the friendship wasn't worth it anymore. It was doing more harm than good. I want more."

Picard's heart raced. He wasn't sure he had heard her properly. Was it possible that she was asking for another chance, that she was ready for this, finally, after all these years? No, it had to be something else-he wasn't that lucky. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up just yet. She wouldn't do it to him again. But who was he fooling? She already had. The moment her face appeared on the screen, he had hoped that she would be coming back to him.

"I've been so stupid," she continued. "All this time I thought it was you that was the problem, when it was me. I was scared, Jean-Luc, and I didn't mean what I said. The truth is, I need you. Not just as a friend. You'll always be that, but I want us to be more. I want to come home."

"Why?" he asked. He had to know, had to hear the words fall from her lips. This time he wasn't going to let her get around saying it. He wasn't going to give her the chance to back down later.

"Because I love you. I've loved you for so long, I don't even remember what it's like not to. I'm not going to sit here and let the rest of my life slip away without you knowing that. I've wasted too much time being scared. You don't have to say yes. I just wanted to tell you. I needed to ask. I understand if-"

She was so upset. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her cry like this. She was desperate and he could tell. His heart ached at seeing her this way on account of him, at seeing her love so openly displayed for the first time.

"Beverly," he began, slowly and reassuringly, a smile on his face. "Beverly, it's alright. Everything's alright now."


End file.
